In winter, the sun

Is late to rise

Holding back its warmth

Deceiving in its brightness

     Its arc across the sky

     Is done without warmth

     Giving light reluctantly

     Taking it back too soon

In spring we lean closer

In the northern half of the planet

And after a while

We feel the heat

     And after a long while

     The lingering days pull us into summer

     Then we become the reluctant ones

     Who won’t let go until the leaves fall

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015

April 9, 2015